


Heartstrings & Dragon Wings

by LalasDreamLand



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Families of Choice, High Rock, Markarth
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-09-23 06:57:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17075540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LalasDreamLand/pseuds/LalasDreamLand
Summary: A small Breton woman with the weight of Nirn on her shoulders, she saved Skyrim but can she save him? Her past looms overhead and his is shrouded in mystery, maybe they were brought together for a reason.





	1. Leap of Faith

**Author's Note:**

> Do hope you enjoy this, it's not quite as polished as I wanted it to be but for it to be a spur of the moment thing regarding my newest Dragonborn OC I figured I'd run with it. The Forsworn are so intriguing and I had this idea for quite a while now.

She was breathless, absolutely exhausted and her bones, oh how her bones ached as if she were old as Nirn itself. Fighting through hordes of Forsworn had not been exactly what she expected but then again she was in the Reach, this was their lands- at least what they claimed. Battered and bruised she carried on, she had came here for a reason: _The Bards Leap_ it was called and looking down now she knows that leap is the understatement of a lifetime. 

“ _Plummet_ … this is a fucking plummet.”

Gathering her nerves she tries to prepare herself for the jump, or plunge or plummet or whatever in the name of oblivion you wanted to call this suicide mission she was about to undertake. 

“You’re an idiot, Devora, a mad woman,” she was berating herself now.

Devora came here on a whim, was it a whim? She didn’t know anymore, she loved finding new interesting locations and after reading a book at the Bards College that mentioned this fascinating sight she went on her merry way to find said destination. 

_“You’ll regret it!”_ Devora remembers hearing Viarmo call after her as she left in a hurry and maybe just maybe that pain in the arse elf was right. This place was terrifying, Forsworn galore and their particular taste in _decoration_ always made her skin crawl. She thought she killed them all, spells and dagger in hand- but that chanting... it was growing stronger and Devora’s skin crawled with the familiar sting of magika in the air. 

Devora turned sharply, behind her a path led to some sort of makeshift hut under stone pillars, the gravelly female voices she heard could only mean one thing when this level of magic was involved- _Hagravens_. Sneaking ever so closely she peaked around the barrier, two of them, only two she thought to herself. She could take them- but what in the name of the eight were they doing?

Closely she examined the the stone table and saw a body of a man, a warrior, a- 

_“BRIARHEART!”_

She didn’t even realize her own exclamation before the two hags had turned on her, only one thing to do in this situation- Devora was light on her feet and she preferred stealth overall, unless she gave herself away like a fool; but her Thu’um would take care of them.

_“Fus. Roh. Dah!”_

Her voice rang out, only the slightest of breaths and her two enemies shot clear across the way, banging hard against the stone wall. They were easy to take care of from here, as much the whole Dragonborn thing was strange and changed her life for better or for worse, she still wasn’t sure about that- the voice came in handy, she had to admit it.

The small Breton woman made her way over, finishing the two hags off with her worn elven dagger. It was old, it was tarnished, it was nicked as refined moonstone could get but it was her mother’s and she always carried it and it always served it’s purpose. 

The adrenaline was wearing off now, Devora wasn’t afraid to say it but hagravens scared her more than anything in these parts. They were nothing but living embodiments of how dark magic could get, how it can take you over and transform you into a monster. Slowly her heartbeat calms and the beating in her ears is no longer a ringing thud- was that... groaning? 

Devora turned on her heels to find the man- the briarheart she corrects herself internally, loudly groaning and struggling. She walks closer and notices the blood, so much blood and how a part of his chest is slightly split open directly above his heart- these people, they were truly barbaric. 

_“H-h-help-,”_ he chokes out.

To her own shock he’s alive, barely, but he’s alive. Was he not turned or transformed or whatever it was they did to these men to change them? She must have interrupted the ceremony Devora realizes and suddenly she’s in action. His own heart is still in place but the gouging wound on his chest is of deadly size. It’s deep, very deep and she doesn’t know if she can save him but she can ease his pain until he passes. 

A healing spell erupted from her fingertips engulfing her hands in a glowing light and ever so easily it creeps around the man’s writhing body. The blood flow was beginning to ease and the wound closing the smallest amount, maybe she could heal him enough to get him out of here- but dammit she didn’t come by horseback. He could live if she could just get him out of here and somewhere to an alchemy station, a stronger healer. Markarth wasn’t far and- she had an idea. 

Devora checks his wound one last time after sheathing her spell,

“give me a little time, I’m going to help you,” she says soothingly to a now unconscious man.

Running as quick as she can to the clearing outside of the makeshift walls surrounding the stones she breathes in, she breathes out, she calls only one name,

_“Od. Ah. Viing.” ___

__“Snow. Hunter. Wing.” She whispers quietly to herself, within in seconds she hears the unforgettable flapping of wings and war cry of a dragon._ _

__He would help her, at least she hoped he would. Od Ah Viing normally assisted her in harsh battles but surely he could give her one more flight to where she needed to be. The old dragon was more than helpful when defeating Alduin, if not for his help their world might no longer exist. Landing loudly in front of her Devora braced herself as the ground shook from his sheer monstrous force._ _

__“I came as you called Dovahkiin, I am ready to destroy any you might need!” The dragon’s voice boomed as he desperately looked around, hellbent and battle ready as he always was._ _

__“I need your help, my kin, but not as I usually do,” Devora explains, watching as the old dragon calms slightly and obviously perplexed by her summons._ _

__“And what is it you ask of me?” Od Ah Viing tilts his head bemused by his mortal kin._ _

__Devora catches her breath once again, there was still nothing quite like the experience or the excitement of watching a dragon land in front of you._ _

__“I need your help flying myself and another out of here, he’s wounded and I need to get him somewhere safely,” she pleads to the scaled beast._ _

__He scoffed at her, if dragons can even make that sound she’s sure that’s a scoff, “you call me here for a ride, I come to fight, to dominate.”_ _

__“Look, I like to think we’re friends,” and there’s the scoff again, “we are kin and I ask only a favor…” she trails off staring him in the eyes._ _

__“Fine, grab the other _human_ ,” he says with disdain “we leave immediately.” _ _

__Devora can’t help the relief that washes over her as she runs to drag the unconscious man from behind the hide leather walls, blood is seeping out once again but he still has a faint pulse. She can help him, she can try damnedest, if they land somewhere not far outside of Markarth she can get guards to help her move him. She’s a Thane and if she pays them handsomely enough they will not speak of the fact she brought a Forsworn into their city by her own volition._ _

__Now settled on the dragon’s back she calls out to him, “just outside of Markarth-”_ _

__“I will land where I see fit and where I see no danger.”_ _

__Devora can only nod in agreement as she holds tight to this strange man laying limply in front of her, she doesn’t know why the Aedra would put her in such a situation but maybe she could fix this man who’d been so brutally sacrificed by his own._ _

__Maybe she was crazy, most said she was, but maybe this man was just pulling at her heartstrings as they rode through sky carried by dragon wings._ _


	2. At First Sight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a little longer than expected to get this chapter out due to some sudden health complications but at last chapter two is here and I hope you enjoy. Reviews & Kudos always help fuel me and are much appreciated!

Frantic footsteps on old worn stone was all that could be heard through the empty late night city of Markarth, heavy huffs of breath along with ragged moans filled the stale air. He was making noise again, he was conscious at least- he she thought once more; would she even save him in time to learn his name? Devora didn’t know nor care at the moment, the landing had been rough and she was exhausted from dragging the Forsworn man’s body to the city gates where she had to practically beg the two guards to help her. Thankfully they made little argument after she promised to line their pockets with plenty of gold for both their silence and compliance. 

“Here, right here, just hold him here!” Devora demanded breathlessly.

After three swift knocks at the door one of the women she was looking for answered, _thank the divines_ she sighed internally, Muiri was a sweet girl but there was also something slightly sinister- maybe even broken she’d dare to say that bonded Devora to the fellow Breton. Muiri was surprised to see her or maybe just shocked by the almost dead man and two guards.

“W-what is this?” Muiri asked groggily, clearly she had fell asleep at The Hag’s Cure after another late night of experimenting with her potions & poisons.

“He needs our help, _now_ ,” Devora points out as calmly as possible, it’d do no good to falter now. 

“I’ll fetch Bothela…,” quickly Muiri scurries to the back. 

It didn’t take long to get him inside and laid out on a few old furs, it would have to do and if Bothela needed them replaced or to be compensated Devora would be sure to do so. The guards stood back as they watched the haggard woman enter the room, war paint and all Bothela was no one to be trifled with, always helpful if she could be of assistance but you did not cross her and even these new guards had been made aware. 

“ _Girl_ , what is the meaning of this?! You show up to my shop in the dead of night with-,” Devora can’t help but cringe at the gasp that leaves her mentors mouth.

Bothela quickly regains her composure and shews the guards out of her business, “a word of this to anyone I will _personally_ make sure you never speak again.” 

Well, that was one way to handle it, Devora would still pay them for extra assurance but she’s sure after that threat and the tone of Bothela’s voice they won’t even be seen on this side of the city ever again. Looking across the room Devora could already see Muiri fast at work cleaning the deep wound directly over their now guest’s heart.

“I know you’re angry Bothela but-” and with that Devora is cut off.

“Angry is an understatement, _dear_ , I am livid!” Bothela all but screeched at her. She had every right to be, even if he came from her own people Bothela had renounced her ties to the Forsworn long ago and this wasn’t something she wanted to be mixed up in. Devora tried to explain herself once more before Muiri’s panic stricken voice joined theirs.

“I need help, I can’t _fix this_ on my own you two…” 

Quickly Bothela sprung into action, Devora joining her and Muiri, with the blood loss it would take all three of them as a team and luckily for their sake they made a good one. Even in the midst of their desperate attempt to save someone’s life Devora was brought back to memories of a time spent with her older sister and her mother, when it was just them, when it was simple- before it all grew complicated. She shook her head, now was not the time for this kind of reflection, she left that behind for a reason. 

“I think he’s stable for the time being but a wound this size needs sewing, bring me what’s needed Muiri and you,” Bothela points to Devora “cast you’re healing and keep it steady, I don’t care how drained you feel, do it or all of this will be for nothing.” 

Devora follows command and puts all of herself into her magika, it was a feeling she couldn’t describe, only those with a real connection to it could understand it and the school restoration always had such a calming effect on her. She watched as Bothela and Muiri made haste with needle & thread, _the man_ she thought was handling it well- although she realized she still hadn’t seen his face. It was hidden under the thick animal hide style helm of the Forsworn but taking it off could wait until after they were finished.

“That should be it, right?” Muiri asked wiping the sheen of sweat from her brow, Bothela only nodded as she stood slowly mumbling something about her forsaken knees. 

Devora sighed loudly, finally she felt like she could breathe again, time seemed to halt from the time she found him until now and she watched has he took slow but deep breaths. The worst was over but he had to make it through the night and he couldn’t be moved again in his current state. Looking over to Bothela and catching the eyes of the reachwoman they had their own silent conversation,

“fine, your new pet can stay here for the night but I make you no promises of his survival.”

Rushing over to the old woman Devora wrapped her arms around her, “thank you, thank you!” She could only chuckle at the few light pats she felt on her back, Bothela wasn’t unkind but she wasn’t soft either, callus from years of torment and heartbreak but she did have love for those loyal to her and Devora would always be loyal and now indebted to her- especially after this night.

“He shouldn’t be any threat in his condition… should he?” Muiri asked cautiously. For some reason the thought of Muiri being afraid of him made Devora... upset? What was she even feeling? 

“I’m sure he’ll be no problem, he couldn’t hurt a skeever in this state mustless attempt to hurt the two of us, even if he tried he’d dead before he could do any damage,” Bothela chimed in, nonchalantly as always.

Devora still sat by him watching his chest rise and fall, it was mesmerizing almost, one minute he was on the brink of death and the next he was sleeping almost peacefully in the middle of the shop floor she spent most of her time in. She ran her fingers gently along the length of the sewn wound, it would obviously scar but she could already see several small ones spattering his arms and lower abdomen. For some reason Devora wanted to know where they all came from, wanted to know their stories- suddenly she was brought out of her thoughts by Bothela’s voice once more.

“You’re welcome to stay as always or go home, I’m sure Argis is worried sick again but Muiri and I are going to sleep- I think we deserve it after all.” 

Nodding she watched as the two took their leave to the back and now here she was left alone with the captivating Forsworn warrior, maybe he would make it through the night but until then she felt like it was safe to remove his helm and finally lay eyes upon his face. Breathing in deeply she let her small deft hands remove the heavy head gear and what she saw took her breath away.

He didn’t look like she expected, well actually she didn’t know what she was expecting but it certainly wasn’t someone as attractive as him. He had almost honey blond hair that was laid down around his face from wearing the helm, he also had a slight beard- it was nothing like those thick beards Nordic men loved to sport but it was there. She traced a finger from his forehead down to his nose, it wasn’t small nor too large- _it suits_ him she thought. Now running her hand along his jaw, she was almost loving the feeling of his facial hair against her palm- _stop that_ Devora reprimanded her own self. Drawing her hand back she stopped to admire once more all she revealed, he was handsome with a strong jaw and clearly she liked it more than she should.

“So... what is your story?” Devora wondered aloud, clearly it was an interesting one. 

She new very little of Forsworn practices, culture and that awful sacrifice of warriors to become briarhearts. What was truly the purpose of it all? Why were they so keen on living like animals? Devora had too many questions, some she probably didn’t even want the answer to- but what she did want to know was more about _him_.


	3. With Four Words

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for how long it has taken to produce this chapter. Due to the sudden loss of my father six weeks after my mother's passing I had to take a break to handle my personal life but I should be back to a regular schedule soon.

Devora awoke to soft rustling and pained groans echoing off the thick stone walls of The Hag’s Cure, _dammit_ she thought, she didn’t even realize she drifted off asleep beside the strange man the night before and now here she was practically laid on top of him. The Forsworn man groaned once more as he desperately tried to pull himself into a sitting position atop the pile of furs he slept on. She had to think quick or he’d rip his stitching open, thankfully she was able to spring into action and grab him under his well toned arms to help move him upwards.

“Be careful, _please_ be careful or you’ll hurt yourself more…,” she trailed off as she finally stared into his hazel eyes.

_Warm honey, just like his hair,_ Devora thought to herself. Wait- was she smiling? _Stop, stop._

“W-Who are you?” he asked quietly, he had been through so much trauma so of course he had no idea of his surroundings.

“My name is Devora, Devora-,” and with that she cut herself off, he didn’t need to know the rest, _no one_ did, “Devora, I’m Devora. I’m the one who saved you from that sacrifice.” 

She could tell he was still confused which was expected and his eyes began to widen as he felt around the left side of his chest suddenly grazing his stitched wound, he _knew._ His eyes were watering and he looked at her with such fear- and, was that gratitude? What was that look? But once he began to talk she understood.

“T-Thank you, thank you so much f-for what you did f-for me,” the poor man was gasping for air as he sobbed his grateful happy tears for what Devora did for him.

Grazing her fingers down his forearm and down to his hand she grasped his own, “calm down, one thing at a time now, and you’re very welcome.” 

His breath became more even and less erratic by the second and she was thankful for that. His heart was nearly taken out of his chest, he didn’t need to strain himself even more. Squeezing his hand to comfort him she decided to finally ask, “now, what is your name?”

Taking another steadying breath, he answered, “Bastian, my name is _Bastian._ ” 

_Bastian,_ she liked that- again she caught herself thinking that something about him suited him perfectly. He didn’t look like the rest of those gruff Forsworn warriors, they were savages, as cruel as it was to call someone that, _they were._ Warm eyes and a kind face was not what anyone would expect from one of them and clearly this man was beyond traumatized by what his own put him through.

Gently she reached over to touch his chest and he quickly yanked away, “I won’t hurt you, remember, I _helped_ you.” 

That seemed to calm him down and his breathing became regular once more as she slowly placed her fingers over the stitching. Luckily it was holding for now, even after the strain he put on it when he woke but Muiri did a solid job; as always that girl was talented beyond her years. Bastian’s skin was flushed and heated, he obviously was running a slight fever but nothing drastic, Devora was sure Bothela had the proper herbs to help with that in the shop. Placing her palm completely over the stitched surface of his chest Bastian let out a sigh of relief.

“Does that feel good?” Devora couldn’t help the slight smirk on her face that she was attempting to hide.

Bastian stumbled over his words, clearly embarrassed by the noise he made, “it’s n-nothing, y-your hand is just very cold and it f-feels good to my-,”

“It feels good to the fever in your skin, I understand.” 

They were brought out of their shared moment when the sudden banging at the shop door startled them both. Quickly Devora laid Bastian down gently as she could and covered him, he had to stay hidden for the moment or at least make himself look like one of Bothela’s newest patients. Holding a single finger to her lips the battered warrior nodded and turned his head to feign sleep. Now the only problem was who could it be, if those guards snitched they wouldn’t be alive by the end of the day. 

Answering the door Devora was shocked at who was on the other side- well, actually she wasn’t. He was sworn to protect her by oath so of course he came to find her where she most likely could be found.

“Argis, it’s not even eight in the morning, why are you nearly knocking Bothela’s door down?!” 

The bulky Nord pushed his way into The Hag’s Cure, he spent a lot of time there himself keeping an eye on his Thane, _just doing my job_ he’d say whenever Devora and Muiri would ask why he had to follow them around like a lost pup. If anyone looked close enough though they’d see the way he looked at his Thane and many could understand it. Devora was beautiful, easily one of the most put together Breton women you could find and while her actions could sometimes be unpredictable it was completely understandable as to why Argis had quickly fallen for her. 

Argis cleared his throat, “you didn’t come home last night and-,” his voice lowered “two new guards were talking about a dragon landing outside of the city with a _rider_ on it’s back…,” 

She had to admit he knew her well, even if he had only been in Devora’s service for a short while Argis the Bulwark was a sharp one. Sighing she ran her hand through her nearly shoulder length hair, it was starting to knot and the few braids needed to be taken out and all of it thoroughly washed. Argis grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm down, it caught her by surprise how suddenly gentle his touch was.

“Stop that, you only do that when you’re nervous or hiding something and right now I think it’s both- _wait,_ are you hurt?” Argis asked her, as he began looking her over.

He remembered the time she came home with blood pouring down both of her legs, Devora barely made it through the door to her home before collapsing into his arms. The panic and sheer worry at the thought that he didn’t do his job properly and protect his Thane and any child that could be inside of her made his skin crawl. Argis remembered that night well and it still shook him to the core when he thought about nearly losing her. He also remembers the relief of knowing it was only a deep cut to her inner thigh and she’d heal, Argis simply couldn’t bare the thought of losing her now.

“Stop, _stop_ that. I know that look and I am _fine_ ,” Devora exclaims pulling away from him.

Argis huffs, how did he get stuck with the tiny moody Breton woman again? She was insufferable at times and honestly he was glad that she stayed gone on her little _endeavors_ majority of the time but that didn’t stop him from missing her presence. He suddenly noticed her eyeing what seemed to be a man in the center of the room.

“So is this what you were _doing_ all night?” Argis asks, gesturing towards Bastian.

Devora couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling after hearing the suggestive tone in Argis’ words. Of course he would assume the worst out of everything and everyone, _Nords_ she thought, always looking for trouble when they needed to be minding their own business. Walking over to Bastian she shook his shoulder lightly, he looked around to her and mouthed,

_“Is it safe?”_

She gave him a soft smile, “it is, it’s just Argis my Housecarl, he won’t hurt you as long as I’m here.” 

Devora could here the slight rattling in his chest, most likely fluid from the trauma his heart went through the night before- nothing a little healing spell and thistle wouldn’t take care of. Carefully she grasped him under his arms once more and sat him upwards where his breathing became less distressed. She didn’t even think about the rest of the very distinct armor Bastian was wearing and she was reminded the moment she heard a blade being unsheathed behind her.

“Move away from him right now, Devora,” Argis commanded.

“No, _no!_ Put the sword away and listen to-,” Devora couldn’t even finish her sentence before Argis was pushing his way in front of her to shield her. 

Could he not see Bastian was in no shape to hurt anyone? She could hear the sound of sharp Skyforged steel slicing the air and she screamed, that was the only thing she knew to do to grab his attention. 

Argis turned on his heels to face his now flush faced Thane. 

“He’s a _Forsworn,_ Devora. This is why you flew in on a dragon, to save someone like him?!” 

Devora could feel her temper rising and before the words could leave her mouth she heard the one angered voice none of them wanted to hear, _Bothela._

“What in the name of the eight and the old Gods is going on in here and Argis what did I tell you about drawing your weapons in my shop?!” 

They all visibly shrank several sizes as the elderly woman’s voice bounced off the stone walls. Yes they were all terrified of her and they weren’t afraid to show it, poor Bastian had hid under his furs once more and Devora was worried what damage his sudden movements could have done to his chest. 

“Bothela, we can explain-,” once again Devora had been cut off before being able to fully give her side of the story, she was getting annoyed with that. 

“Look _girl_ I don’t want to hear it, it’s nearly opening time and your aggravating Housecarl and your new pet are in the middle of my shop. This yelling and screaming is bad for business, my business, so I need you all out,” Bothela explained loudly.

Argis cleared his throat while sheathing his sword, “Bothela, I apologize-” 

The haggard woman held up her hand, “save it one-eye, I don’t want your excuses either.” 

Devora tried her damndest to hide her snickering, no one ever had the audacity to point out Argis’ obvious blindness in his left eye, even Devora had taken a while to work up the courage to finally ask how it happened. She noticed the slight shaking of the furs Bastian was hiding under and could hear the faintest sound of laughter- he found it funny too. As long as he was laughing and not struggling to breathe he would hopefully be find, but that still didn’t stop her from lightly kicking his leg.

“Ouch!” Bastian hissed from his hiding spot, catching the attention of Bothela.

“And you,” she calls out, “I need you out of here but first you have to change out of that armor.” 

Bothela was right, he couldn’t be seen in the city wearing that style, it would be obvious as to what group of people he belonged to. Not only would they execute Bastian but arrest anyone involved with him, including Argis, Bothela and Muiri. Devora couldn’t take that chance at losing the new family she built for herself and losing Bastian. She didn’t know why she was so drawn to him, he was so sweet and so gentle… she wasn’t used to men like that. Plus what would be the good in losing him now after everything she did to save his life? Devora desperately tried to come up with some kind of rational reason as to why she was scared of losing a man she really didn’t know; she honestly couldn’t.

“She’s right,” Devora replies, “we’ll get him changed and moved over to Vlindrel Hall.” 

Devora could practically hear Argis’ jaw hitting the floor behind her, along with his heavy angered breathing. He was going to try and tell her how it was “unsafe” to move a Forsworn into her own home and how he’s sworn to protect her: his usual spiel. He was an amazing warrior, a devout friend but truly a pain in the arse- like every other man that came into her life. 

“Devora, I can’t let you do that-” 

“Save it, Argis, help me or I dismiss you from my services,” Devora commanded, she didn’t take orders from him, he took orders from her. 

“Yes, my Thane.” 

Yanking the furs sharply from Bastian’s body Argis went to lift him off of the floor, it was clear Bastian was somewhat taller, tall _and_ lean; not as bulky as Nords like Devora’s Housecarl. 

“Be careful you irritable oaf, I can do it myself,” Bastian exclaimed as Argis tried to lift him. 

Devora shook her head at the display, _men_ she thought, why were they all such fools and why did she always end up with the crazy or broken ones? Had to be her overly caring nature as Muiri would put it. The fellow Breton woman had explained how numerous times guardsmen or even other males in the city had come around looking for her after she had treated them in the shop, basically Devora was a magnet for trouble when it came to the male species. She couldn’t help but think maybe she would have learned her lesson by now after- _no,_ she wasn’t going to think about him or High Rock or her siblings or even the _situation_ as she would refer to her familial issues when talking to Bothela and Muiri. 

She was brought out of her own nagging thoughts when Muiri carefully pulled her aside.

“The courier brought this by yesterday, not the usual one, the one from _High Rock,_ ” Muiri whispered softly. 

Devora could feel her own blood run cold at the other woman’s words. It had been maybe three or four months now since she received any kind of updates from her younger brother, she usually took it as a good sign when Destier didn’t write to her. Opening the letter she was met with the neat script of her sibling and only a few words that managed break her and terrify her all at the same time. 

_‘Your daughter needs you.’ - Destier Dupre_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reference: 
> 
> Devora is pronounced- Dee-Vor-Uh.  
> Destier is pronounced- Dess-Teer.  
> Bastian is the shortened version of Sebastian. 
> 
> Also if you know your Elder Scrolls Dark Brotherhood lore or you have played Elder Scrolls Legends then you might be slightly familiar with Devora's surname 'Dupre'


End file.
